


Three-Course Meal

by monimala



Category: The Young and the Restless
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Pansexual Character, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 11:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15290418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monimala/pseuds/monimala
Summary: I could claim that this is a noble exercise in character work. That I'm exploring Mariah's sexuality in ways the show never will. But, to be honest, it really just boils down to the fact that Mariah needs to get laid, Summer is hilarious, and Kyle has a sittable face.Mariah got paid to play her dead twin’s ghost. Getting in bed with Kyle Abbott and Summer Newman might actually be crazier than that.





	Three-Course Meal

It’s awkward. Even with two shots of tequila burning in her belly—just enough to fortify, not enough to blur the lines of consent—and even with Kyle’s surprisingly gentle approach to the whole thing. He coaxes her over the threshold like he’s whispering a skittish horse. Asks if it’s okay to kiss her neck as he unzips her dress. Doesn’t try to feed her some cheesy line. There are no big ego jokes. Not inside this room. Big other things, maybe, but she can’t quite bring herself to look yet. 

“This is a dumb idea,” she tells him for the tenth time that evening, shivering at the press of his mouth against her spine. “You can’t work your sex magic on me and somehow make me attractive to people.”

That’s why Summer’s here, she thinks. Because she’s gorgeous. Because Kyle will need the inspiration while he’s doing this whole twisted My Fair Sexy Lady thing. The snowflake’s probably storing it all away in her mental file so she can have a big laugh later. For now, she seems just as sincere as Kyle. Sitting on the edge of the bed, totally comfortable in her skimpy designer bra and panties, looking like every straight man’s—and some gay girls’—fantasy. She rolls her eyes at Mariah, huffs.

“See? This is what we’re talking about. You _are_ attractive, but your attitude needs a complete overhaul!” Summer complains, leaning back on her hands, which are flat against the hotel mattress. Naturally, she peeled off her clothes two seconds into the room—and, at some point, Mariah’s going to have to do a deep dive on why rich kids have no inhibitions. Right now, she’s more concerned about the excess of her own.

“My attitude is _fine_!” she snaps back, knowing that if this were at all true, she would not be about to engage in some sort of educational threesome with a nudist executive and her vapid quasi-stepsister.

“Ladies—and I use the term lightly—stop it.” Kyle clicks his tongue at them both. Before applying said tongue to her skin once more as he tugs slowly at her dress. The material bunches at her hips on the way down, catches on her butt. A reminder her that she has unenviable curves along with sharp edges. “You’re blushing.” His voice is a low rumble in her ear. She has to close her eyes because, God, this is mortifying. The stick-thin blonde in front of her and the guy behind her who could do all of Genoa City’s laundry on his abs. “Do you know what you look like when you blush, Mariah?”

“Like a tomato?” she manages to suggest.

“No. Like a sunrise. So much pink. So much red.” She feels his hands on her. Palming her, fingertips digging into her cheeks. “This ass,” he groans. “ _Fuck_. Summer, you wish you had this ass.”

“Hey!” An outraged yelp. “Body positivity for Mariah does not mean body-shaming me!”   

Kyle laughs. It vibrates through her, joining the ripples from his touch. “There is no shame. Trust me. Tonight, I am the luckiest guy in the world.”

_Yeah, right._ She’s on board for this exercise in futility. For this night they will probably Never Speak of Again. But they don’t need to flatter her. She knows what and who she is. “You’re laying it on a little thick, don’t you think? I get that I’m your goodwill project, but you don’t have to exaggerate on my account.”

“Exaggerate? You think I’m lying?” Up until this point, Kyle’s only contact has been lips, fingers. So careful. Like she might bolt. Like she might break. Now he drags her against him, aligning their bodies, her back to his ridiculous Abercrombie model chest. “Feel what’s thick, Mariah. Feel it. It’s not a lie.”

And, _oh damn_ , he’s right. She’s seen him semi-hard—hell, thousands of people have seen him semi-hard—but feeling him fully erect is something else entirely. Long, stiff, undeniable. He’s a grower, not a show-er. “This is for you,” he whispers. “Because of you. Because you’re beautiful. Not just because Summer’s here.”

“I _think_ that was a compliment?” Snowflake’s dry response is a little louder, telling Mariah that she’s come off the bed to join them. “Hey. Come on. Look at me,” Summer urges softly. “Ignore Mr. Cocky for a second, if he’ll let you.”

Ignoring Kyle’s penis would take an act of God. But Mariah does open her eyes. Expecting to see smugness in the pair gazing back at her. Relieved that there’s nothing but empathy…and _interest_? Is Summer into this? Not just playing around? An answering flicker starts somewhere deep inside her, next to the tiny flame Kyle’s already lit.

“You’ve got this, Mariah,” Summer murmurs, reaching out and smoothing her hair. Tucking a strand of it behind her ear. Part One of this erotic endeavor was the makeover she got earlier in the week. Complete with trendy new Snowflake-approved ‘do. “You’re here. You’re _present_.” Is that _admiration_ in Summer’s tone? “If you could see yourself right now…you already have this man eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“And that’s not the only thing I want to eat out.” It should sound absurd. Extremely silly. She’s never been into dirty talk. But the way Kyle says it, so deadly serious, punctuating it with the slide of his hand around her hip as he finishes shoving her dress and underwear to the floor, turns her knees to jelly. Her center—her sex, her pussy, her cunt; _you’re an adult having a threesome, Mariah, you can say it_ —pulses with need, like it _wants_ him to dine in and stay for dessert.  

“Come on,” Summer repeats, helping her step out of the pool of her clothes. Leading her towards the king-size bed that suddenly seems about the size of the Titanic door that Rose couldn’t scoot the hell over on. How are they going to make this work? How are they going to fit? What if she falls off and drowns?

Kyle answers the questions for her. He kicks off his shoes and sheds his shirt and jeans in record time, like the practiced exhibitionist he is. He claims one side of the mattress like it’s a roof deck beach chair. And then he grins at her. That arrogant country-club smile. “All aboard.”

There is no mistaking where he wants her to board. Where this ship is headed. He’s not subtle. Nothing about this is subtle. Mariah’s hand trembles as she unhooks her bra and tosses it with her rest of her clothes. She lets Summer pull her the last few steps to the bed.

This shouldn’t be a big deal. _You’re no virgin, cupcake._ She’s had plenty of sex. Sure, maybe it was a bit awkward with Kevin. And she was self-conscious with Devon, who was almost too patient and too kind when she would tense up every time he ventured south on her body. It made it all the more embarrassing. It’s just that she can’t always get _there_. Especially with oral. Now Kyle is waiting for her to climb on him. And Summer is murmuring encouraging and X-rated things like “ride him, you know you want to”—where the snowflake learned to talk like that is anybody’s guess. It’s insane. This whole thing is insane.

Mariah got paid to play her dead twin’s ghost. Getting in bed with Kyle Abbott and Summer Newman might actually be crazier than that.

“You’re stalling.” There’s no judgment in Summer’s voice. Just a breathy tease. It skips across the bare skin of her shoulder like rocks on a pond. “Kyle’s going to develop a complex.”

“In addition to the ones he already has?” Banter is easy. Banter is safe. Though not when Summer is stroking her. With fingertips now instead of whispers. Along her shoulder. Down her arm. Lower. Stoking the heat between her legs.     

“Hey! I thought we weren’t shaming?” Kyle frowns in mock-hurt. It shouldn’t be adorable, but it is.

Summer giggles. “Just me and Mariah. _You_ are fair game.”

“Then play me.” It’s almost a growl. Something that seems too dark and alpha for someone as privileged and sunshine-lit as Kyle. But Mariah doesn’t have time to interrogate it. Because it’s an order, an imperative, a _now_ , as he and Summer maneuver her on top of him. His hands go right for her ass. He really must be a butt man. Because the sound he makes is one that can’t be faked. Pure masculine pleasure. “Grab the headboard,” he tells her. “Hold on tight.”

She does. Braces herself for the familiar weirdness of a man licking into her. “ _Mariah_. It’s not a root canal. You don’t have to _endure_.” Summer again. Kneeling on the other side of Kyle. Chiding her like she’s the unruliest student at Sex School. “If you don’t really want this, tell us no. We’ll stop.”

No. Even with how mortified she feels. How tomato-red she must be all over—sunrise be damned. She doesn’t want them to stop. Because Kyle’s mouth feels good on the inside of her thigh. Soft, soothing, kisses. The horse whisperer back in action. He doesn’t go right in with his tongue or fingers. He waits for her reply. For her enthusiastic verbal consent. Maybe he watched the #MeToo episode of _The Hilary_ _Hour_ they did a few months back. “Don’t stop,” she says, giving him the green light. “It’s okay. I want to be here.”

“It needs to be better than just ‘okay.’” Apparently, the snowflake watched the episode, too. “The whole _goal_ here is for you to feel more than okay.”

Mariah takes one white-knuckled hand off the headboard. She slides it around Summer’s neck and draws her in. Their mouths meet just as Kyle’s lips find her clit. A complete circuit. And an electrical fire.

It’s _definitely_ more than okay.  

 

  

 

-end- 


End file.
